Phoenix
by ulstergirl
Summary: Mystery Stories. When Carson catches Nancy and Ned in an accidentally compromising position, his demand that Ned state his intentions toward Nancy causes the two to examine their relationship, and Nancy to confront her fear of commitment.
1. Chapter 1

**Written for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2011.**

* * *

><p>Riverrun was a beautiful little community, even in the dim predawn. Trim, well-appointed cottages lined the shore, the lawns occupied by the occasional swingset. Tall stately pines clustered in the curves of the road, their branches waving in the wind. The sky was the faintest blue, the sun barely above the horizon.<p>

Carson Drew didn't see any of it. His strong jaw was set as he negotiated the turns, pulling onto the rough trail to the riverside rental cabins fast enough to send gravel spinning into the ditch. A chilling mist hung in the thick air.

The police hadn't been able to tell him how long Nancy's car, disabled by two flat tires, had been on the side of the roadway, abandoned. They _had_ been able to tell him, their mouths thin grim slashes in their sallow faces, that bullets had caused the flats.

Bullets. Bullets aimed at his baby girl's car.

Her cabin had no phone, and his repeated calls to the camp's switchboard had gone unanswered. Carson had barely stopped the car before he was launching himself out, at a dead run. Before he had even pounded his fist on the door for the first time, he was already planning what to do if she wasn't here, if he needed to start at the car and direct a search. What if she was hurt, in the woods; the car had been a few miles away, but what if whoever had shot at her had managed to abduct her—

The same panicked litany began every time he began to lose his tight control. Carson thinned his lips and pounded on the door again, his stomach tense with worry.

The door opened under his fist. Ned Nickerson stood there, blinking into the glare of the paling sky. His brown hair and his t-shirt and pants were rumpled from sleep. The boy's eyes were sharp, watchful, until he recognized Nancy's father.

Carson's mouth opened and closed, as Ned cleared his throat. "Mr. Drew," he said.

"Is Nancy—"

"Dad," Nancy said, tossing back the covers on the bed. She wore a long gown trimmed at the hem, sleeves and neck in some frivolous lace. Ned moved out of the way just in time; Carson rushed to his daughter, enfolding her in a hug before pulling back.

"Nancy? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, pushing her hair back. "What's wrong?"

"The car—"

"Oh," Nancy and Ned said together, and Carson glanced between the two of them, his brow slightly furrowed.

"The police called me," he explained. "They found your car. I had no idea where you were. Nancy— can I talk to you?"

Nancy nodded, then glanced over at Ned, who self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll go see if I can find us some breakfast," he said.

Nancy excused herself and vanished into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in a shirtdress, looking much fresher and more awake. Carson was sitting on the bed, gazing down at the pallet of rumpled blankets on the floor near the window.

"So what happened last night," he said, and glanced up at his daughter.

He could see no sign of shame or embarrassment in her, but then she had almost never acted that way, unless she was exposed to profuse adoration. She sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Well, we all went to the dance at the yacht club," she began. "George and Bess and Helen, and Ned and I. One of Ned's fraternity brothers invited us all to a house party at the lake, and we accepted. Ned and I were getting into my car when we saw Marjorie Allen. She—"

"Is a known associate of Elias Trotter," Carson finished for her, his gaze narrowing.

Nancy nodded. With one finger she picked at a loose thread in the comforter. "Ned and I followed them, but a long black car came up behind us. We heard some loud popping noises—gunshots. The car... well, you know what happened to the car. There was no way to follow, at that point. We started walking back here, because we were closer, but the black car came back by. We had to duck into the bushes."

Carson nodded. "And how exactly did this result in Ned sleeping in here."

Nancy alternately turned white and red, then clasped her hands hard in her lap. She cleared her throat. "We were both worried that whoever had shot at us would come back to finish the job. Ned... asked if he could sleep in here. He was afraid something would happen to me and he wouldn't be here to do anything about it. He was adamant. And he slept on the floor," she said, nodding at the blankets. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"Nancy..."

A knock sounded on the door. Carson answered it and found Ned standing there, a grocery sack in his arms. He set three bottles of orange juice and a paper sack of biscuits on the table, wordlessly, then turned to face Nancy and her father.

He swallowed visibly.

"Nancy tells me you two were threatened last night," Carson said, and only Nancy knew him well enough to hear that slight tightness in his voice.

Ned glanced at Nancy. "We were, sir," he said, and shrugged out of his coat.

Carson shook his head. "Elias Trotter is a very dangerous man. You were lucky to escape so easily, and I'm sure that if you have raised his suspicions, you'll have to be on your guard until he's safely behind bars. I was prepared to cancel my trip to Boston this afternoon if you were missing, but this might be an even more compelling reason."

"No, no," Nancy said, shaking her head. "Dad, you should go. I would love to have your help, but Ned and I..."

Carson looked between the two of them. Each seemed to visibly shrink beneath his gaze.

"I'm very worried about you, Nancy. You _have_ to be careful. I would feel far more comfortable if Trotter was behind bars."

"As soon as we can find him, that's where he will be."

Carson considered for a moment. "You call me if you run into trouble, Nan, and I will be on the next plane."

Nancy nodded. "I promise."

"And when I get back, the three of us," Carson said, glancing between Nancy and Ned, "are going to sit down and have a long talk."

Ned swallowed again. "Yes, sir," he said faintly.

* * *

><p>Nancy's car wasn't in the driveway.<p>

Ned parked his car, letting it idle for a moment before switching it off. He checked his reflection in the side mirror, tightened his tie, and adjusted the shoulder of his sport coat. Then, for the fifth time that day, he considered fleeing the country.

He rang the doorbell and by the time it was answered, Ned's heart was already ready to beat out of his chest. Then he saw Carson Drew standing there in his shirtsleeves, and his mouth went dry.

"Ned," Carson said, stepping back. "Come in. Hannah and Nancy are out running errands."

Ned had a sudden vision of a freshly dug grave in the backyard just waiting for him. He stepped past Nancy's father, sweltering under his jacket.

Carson led Ned to his study and shut the door behind him. The window was open, and a light breeze barely touched the stillness in the room. Ned took the overstuffed chair in front of the desk, and Carson settled in behind it, taking his time. Letting Ned sweat some more.

Carson glanced at Ned with a look of mild surprise. "I apologize. Hannah has spoiled me. Would you like something to drink?"

"Some water," Ned managed to say, and fought the urge to rise when Carson did.

Ned had downed half the glass of iced water when Carson, hands on the desk in front of him, fingers steepled, said, "I would like to know what your intentions are toward my daughter."

Ned cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"

Carson's eyes narrowed. "I believe that question was entirely clear."

"My intentions... are entirely honorable."

"And that's an excellent way to say nothing."

Ned began to pick at a hangnail, then stopped himself. "Can I speak frankly, sir?"

"I'd prefer that you did."

"I—and I believe Nancy is fully aware of this, even if she doesn't acknowledge it—I would sincerely ask for your permission to ask for her hand in marriage. Were she at all interested."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "You believe she isn't?"

"I think... that she is perfectly content with our relationship just the way it is."

"But I'm not," Carson said bluntly, and Ned almost choked. "While I fully understand your reasons for doing so, it was highly, _monstrously_ inappropriate for you to spend the night in my daughter's room. You're her steady escort and she spends an inordinate amount of time with you. I'd like to believe she has some fondness for you. But this... no. This isn't _enough._"

Just then they heard the front door open, but Carson kept his gaze on Ned's face. "Wait here," he told the younger man.

Ned could hear Nancy's laughter as she and Hannah entered, and he slipped out of his jacket, sighing in relief as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Nancy came in, her blue eyes seeking Ned's face, and sat down in the chair near his. Carson sat back down and glanced between the two of them.

"Nancy, according to Ned, his intentions are entirely honorable."

Ned couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Nancy, in time to see her flush scarlet. "He's always been a perfect gentleman with me," she said, sounding very much as though she had said that before.

Carson sighed and laced his fingers together again. "I like to think that I'm a very generous parent. I don't keep you under my thumb, and I believe I've raised you well, that you have the intelligence to make the right choices when I'm not around. I've watched the relationship between the two of you for quite a while, and I've been pleased to have such a fine man escorting my daughter.

"But this recent lapse in your judgement, Nancy—in both your judgements, is inexcusable."

Nancy's hands twisted in her lap. "Nothing happened," she insisted, and Ned nodded.

"I begged her to let me stay there. It's my fault."

"It is your fault," Carson told Ned. "For insisting. And Nancy, it's your fault for not insisting that he leave you alone there. It _looks_ impossibly damning. You have to understand that."

Nancy opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything.

"I'm not foolish enough to believe this was the first time, either. And even if you swear that it was, there will be another time, another situation, another one of your cases.

"Ned, I can't fault you for trying to keep my daughter safe. I can't. But I can fault you for doing so in such a reckless manner."

He sighed soundlessly. "The two of you need to make some sort of long-term commitment to each other. And if either of you is unable, I would strongly suggest that you stop helping so much with Nancy's cases, Ned."

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other.

"I don't mean," Carson said, then swallowed hard, "a firm engagement. The understanding that it would happen one day would be enough for me. But if the two of you find yourselves in such a compromising position again... I will expect to see definite steps in that direction."

Nancy's blue eyes went impossibly wide, and she glanced back at her father. Ned looked away.

Carson pushed himself to his feet. "Let me go see what Hannah is planning for dinner. You're welcome to stay for it, Ned," he said, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>The irony wasn't lost on her, that after he had chastised her so thoroughly, he was leaving her alone with Ned. Granted, neither of them were in improper attire, and it was the middle of the day.<p>

Ned took a long breath, but he didn't say anything. Nancy tugged at the hem of her dress, then glanced up at Ned. His brow was furrowed and he looked almost pained.

"So," he said.

"So," she repeated.

He reached for her hand. "Nancy, I want you to understand that I've always—"

She shook her head, and his grip tightened on her. "Please," she said softly. "Please don't."

"Do you think if I don't say it, that will change it?" Ned's jaw was tight.

She nodded. "I care about you," she began. "I really do. And I know Dad's upset, but as long as we just make sure nothing like this happens again—"

"That wasn't all he asked for," Ned reminded her.

"But it's what's important. As long as we're careful—"

"Forever," he said quietly, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Forever."

Ned sighed. "I can't be careful forever. For the longest time now I've known that I want to—"

She shook her head again. "You want a wife," she said. "A family. Dinner on the table."

He nodded uncertainly.

"I've never... I've never wanted that kind of life for myself. I've never seen myself that way. While I do care about you... I can't... I can't do what Dad's asking. I can't say that this will ever end in our being engaged. And I'm sorry."

Ned scrubbed his hands over his face. "Why didn't you just tell me," he said.

"I tried," she replied. "But I never wanted to hurt you. I just thought that if I avoided the question enough times, you would figure it out."

"I thought you understood," he said. "I thought... Nancy, I love spending time with you. I love helping you out on your cases. But... it's because of how I feel about you. But it just doesn't matter."

Nancy felt sick. Ned's handsome face was pale, his gaze almost stricken. "I like spending time with you, too," she told him. "And you are so helpful on cases."

"So what," he said. "So could any other man."

Nancy looked down. "We can just wait," she said softly. "Until this has blown over."

"And then what," he said, glancing back up at her. "Really, and then what? I help you out until you or I find someone else, and then it's over? Because if it's like this, there will always be some point where it's over."

"Not our friendship. Not our being friends. That won't be over."

"It will be if that's all you feel about me," he said. "Because I'll always want more. I always have. And your father knows that."

"So when we were together in that room..."

He ducked his head a little. "If you... how could you not feel it, how much I..."

Nancy shook her head. "No."

"So you don't feel it." He took her hand again and at the contact, at the touch of her skin against hers, she had to fight down a small shiver. She tugged a little and he released her, his brown eyes dark and intense.

"This is why I never wanted to talk about this," she said softly. "I can't... I can't promise and I hate the way you're looking at me right now."

Even so, he kept his gaze on her for another moment, then began rolling down his shirtsleeves. "Okay," he said, and his voice sounded almost strangled.

"Ned—"

He shook his head. "It's better to know," he told her, rising to his feet. "That I've been wasting this time."

Nancy choked. "Ned, it hasn't been a waste—"

"Hasn't it?" His jaw was set, and he pulled his coat back on. "If you... if you do need help on a case, and I'm around... I think we can do that, but... but I suppose that's all."

His hand lingered on the doorknob. Nancy twisted her hands so hard in her lap that they turned white.

"That's what you want," he said, and with one last glance at her, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Nancy found another case immediately. She and Bess and George went to a small ranch in California and investigated the ghostly appearances that were frightening the woman running the ranch, Lucinda Warren. Nancy faithfully checked the mail every day, and wrote a few letters home, but she didn't receive any mail from Ned. She didn't expect to. Even so, her heart sank a little every time.

"I'm surprised that your dear Mr. Nickerson hasn't written to you," Bess commented, when the trio had been at the ranch for a week. The three were seated at a scenic roadside cafe, trying out a buffet of stuffed peppers and spicy roasted chicken.

"Have you found a new beau?" George teased, before taking a sip of water.

Nancy kept her gaze on her plate a little too long. When she glanced up, the cousins were gazing at her curiously. "Ned and I... well, we had a talk, and we won't... be seeing as much of each other anymore."

Bess dropped her fork, her brows drawing together. "Nancy Drew. You better not have broken his heart."

Nancy shook her head, poking at her stuffed pepper. Her appetite had vanished at the mention of Ned's name. "I told him how I felt about him, and—"

"Which was what, exactly?" George interrupted impatiently.

"That I cared a lot about him but I couldn't ever say that the two of us would be... in a long-term relationship."

Bess tilted her head. "And how did that come up as a topic? You are extremely good at avoiding what you don't want to talk about."

"Speaking of," Nancy said, catching the waitress's eye. "We need to get back to the ranch before sundown."

George made a face. "Hypers. I don't see why he would be so anxious to settle down, anyway. He's still at Emerson, after all."

"You don't have a romantic bone in your body," Bess retorted, finding her wallet. "And neither do _you_, Nancy, if you could ignore the way that boy looked at you every time you walked into a room."

Nancy colored faintly. "Maybe we should get an ice cream at the drugstore on the way back through town."

George rolled her eyes. "Smooth, Nancy. Very smooth. But don't you think this is over," she said, shaking a finger at her friend as she got to her feet.

The next day, over lunch, Mrs. Warren distributed the mail, and Bess squealed loudly when she saw an envelope addressed to her. "Dave!" she cried, then closed her mouth, shooting a sideways glance at Nancy.

Nancy was flipping through the telephone book, and shook her head at Bess. "Good," she said lightly, adding another notation to her list of antique dealers in the area.

Bess made it halfway through the letter before she glanced back at Nancy. The girl didn't raise her head, but she could feel her friend's eyes on her. When Bess remained silent, Nancy took a long breath, heat rising in her cheeks.

"Go ahead and say it," she said quietly.

Bess finished the letter. "Dave is doing well," she said casually. "He said to tell you hello."

"And what else," Nancy said, abandoning her search for the moment.

"The fraternity house is helping host a dance next weekend," she said. "We should be home by then."

"We should," Nancy said carefully. Then she looked down again. A dance.

"Do you want me to write Dave, and see if he can find you a date?"

Nancy shook her head. "No. Thank you, though. The four of you should go and have a good time. I'm sure George would like to see Burt again."

Bess sighed. "You should go," she urged. "It won't be the same without you. And it could be a good chance to clear the air."

"There is no air to clear, Bess," Nancy said, and had to pause and get herself back under control before she could continue. "Nothing has changed. And I don't relish the thought of traveling to Emerson just for a dance, just to see..."

"Just to see what, Nancy," Bess prompted.

Nancy shook her head. The page was going out of focus, and she put her pencil down. "I'm going for a walk," she announced, pushing back from the table. "Maybe I can find some other trace of that phosphorescent material."

"I can come with you."

Nancy shook her head. "No. It's fine. I'll be back soon."

A dance at Emerson. Unbidden, an image rose in Nancy's mind, an image of Ned looking dark and handsome in his evening wear. Ned with some other girl, his arm warm at her waist, gazing deeply into her eyes. Nancy shook her head hard a few times.

She wanted him to be happy. She did, very much so. But it was still too soon for her to see something like that, and she knew it.

And Nancy did love Emerson. She loved attending the dances and parties and events. But a big part of that, she was just beginning to realize, had been seeing Ned, and attending those functions with Ned.

Nancy set her mouth. She hadn't been wrong, to do what she did, and maybe he was right; maybe she had been wasting his time, holding him back from what he needed to do.

She reached a tall tree and began to climb, telling herself that she could get a bird's-eye view of the valley and maybe see another clue, but she felt relieved, to be where Bess and George couldn't corner her. She was careful but rapid in her climbing, and once she reached the highest branch she dared to hold her weight, she was out of breath.

She had been dreaming about him. He had been a figure in her dreams for a long time, and she knew it didn't really mean anything. Besides, what she felt while asleep wasn't what she felt while awake.

But she had been dreaming about him every night since her father's disastrous ultimatum.

For the hundredth time she cursed their bad luck, that the police had called her father instead of trying to get in touch with her, but it was no use. She couldn't take their conversation back, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't take the words back. And despite what Ned had thought, saying them _had_ changed everything.

When she dreamed, she dreamed of situations they had never been in, cases she had never had. When she woke in her unfamiliar bed she had flashbacks of waking to see Ned, his warm brown eyes open and gazing at her, and that speechless, tenuous—

Nancy tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears, pressing her lips together. It was nothing, it had been nothing. And she would never need to worry about it again.

She woke every morning with her skin still tingling from his imagined touch, all of her unsettled, appetite vanished, distracted until she could finally focus on the case and the case alone. Soon the case would be over; within a day or two, they would probably be heading back to River Heights and she would be at sea again. And she would run into him one day, in Mapleton, in River Heights, maybe even, somehow, at Emerson. She would see him again.

And he would probably be with someone else. One day there would be an engagement announcement in the newspaper, because that was what he wanted. A suitable length of time later, a wedding story, a photo of the blushing bride resplendent in white lace. A brief birth announcement. Mother and child doing well, father proud.

Her stomach twisted into a knot.

So she had been wasting his time. Wasting her own time.

She blinked once, hard, and began to make her slow way down the tree again.

xxxxx

_Teen Sleuth Nabs Fraudsters_

_Chief: "Don't try this at home"_

Ned made a face at the headline, but couldn't stop his gaze from tracking down the page. According to the rather breathless article, the gang had trapped Nancy in an old well, cuffed to heavy weights, and left her to drown. She had managed to escape and direct the highway patrol to the gang's hideout while she took down the ringmaster herself.

She was buried in the background of the grainy accompanying photo, while police led a pair of handcuffed overexposed criminals to the cars. A dark-haired man, head bent close to Nancy's, was even less distinct.

Ned stared at that faceless man for far longer than he intended. A reporter, a plainclothes officer. The man who had taken Ned's place. He didn't know.

His stomach clenching, Ned folded the paper and looked out, at the dock and the water.

He had a terrible feeling that he had waited too long.

Carol slid onto the bench beside him, and Ned resisted the urge to hide the paper. "Ooh, what's playing at the Rialto?" she asked, reaching for the newspaper.

Carol was a home economics major at Barrows College. Petite and brunette, Carol had flashing green eyes that danced at him from behind her horn-rimmed glasses. She had a vivacious personality that rather reminded him of—

Ned gave himself a curt head-shake, putting that out of his mind. Bess had made it perfectly clear that he was welcome to write to her, to ask about Nancy. Bess and George had attended a few of the Emerson dances, cheerfully dancing with Dave and Burt, as though there wasn't a hole there in the middle of the room, as though it was perfectly natural for Ned to be there with another girl.

Ned had begun countless letters to Nancy, and even a few to Bess or George, in the month after he had walked out of Nancy's father's house, leaving her behind. The letters were never longer than a few disconnected sentences, trite phrases that provoked a curled lip and the compulsive clench of his fist, the catharsis of hurling a ball of crumpled paper toward his wastebasket.

He hadn't been alone. Word spread across the Emerson campus like wildfire that Ned was no longer Nancy's exclusive escort, and soon he had been invited to countless bonfires and parties and movies and dinners, had been passed a hundred notes asking if he was free to do something later. And he had taken advantage of it, of his surge in popularity. Then the summer had come, and there had been a cascade of invitations again: invitations to beachside and lakefront cabins, to the mountains, on European tours, on slow cruises. But none of it had appealed to him, at all.

He hadn't questioned it too much. He had taken a summer job as a camp counselor, at a camp he had never visited before. It was small and relatively secluded, and there were no unusual caves or mysterious haunted houses or strange geologic formations nearby. He was probably safe. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be.

Carol had attached herself to him casually, easily, and he had to admit that he enjoyed her company. She was a skilled cook, and she liked to hear about his classes, about the debates they'd had in philosophy, the different theories in psychology. He had the sense that she would rather have taken those classes herself, but home ec was safe and made sense and she could always get a job, and besides...

Besides, he knew without it ever having been said, she would major in home economics and then, when her husband had installed her in a well-appointed home, she would be able to run it, as a gracious hostess. She would be able to shop for and prepare elaborate meals and keep the household budget and raise the children efficiently. And Carol was excellent with the campers; when she was on her own time, usually five or six were trailing along behind her, looks of adoration on their faces.

Now Carol took her small heart-shaped gold ring and idly slipped it off her ring finger, onto her index finger, and back again. "Hey, they're playing the new Cary Grant movie," she said, and glanced over at him. "Want to go this weekend? We can sneak off and get some real food for once..."

Ned groaned and patted his stomach. Carol wasn't in charge of the camp kitchen, and the mediocre meals left something to be desired. "Sounds great," he told her. "Just can't be Saturday night..."

Now it was Carol's turn to groan. "Great. We have to chaperone?"

"Who else would?" Ned asked, his attention caught by an ad for a sporting goods store on the opposite page. "Unless you have some favors you can call in with McGee."

Carol gave him an impish grin. "I've used 'em all up."

A few minutes later she headed over to the crafts cabin for her class and Ned headed to his shift lifeguarding, and they had a date for Friday night. Just like that. They would see a movie together and Carol wouldn't get distracted by catching sight of some suspicious character when they were on the way back and he was wondering exactly what she would do if he tried to steal a kiss. And Carol would probably have her glasses off during the dance, and she would gaze at him with that bemused, slightly out of focus expression while they drifted around the floor.

And he did like her. She was fun to talk to, and she could actually hold a conversation. She had a wicked sense of humor. She was the kind of girl he could imagine himself being with.

He was not, not going to think about how lukewarm his feelings for her were, in comparison, because there would be no comparison, not anymore. He was just still a little bruised and numb from the way it had ended. Even if Carol wasn't the one, the sheer number of Emerson coeds who had expressed some interest in him meant his odds were good. He'd have another steady before long.

The lifeguard on shift passed over the gear and left Ned with a tossed-off mock salute. Ned took the seat and gazed out at the water, at the splashing boys and girls, the lazy drift of the canoes, inexorable.

She could have drowned.

Ned felt his throat closing up and shook his head.

It was her choice, had always been her choice, to be a sleuth, to put herself in danger. Ned's presence or absence would have no bearing on it. She would find someone to take his place, just as he would find someone to take hers, and he had _told her_, that if she needed help on a case to call him—

Well, maybe she didn't need _his_ help on cases anymore.

The thought stuck with him, became almost troubling. He took Carol out Friday night and they watched the movie with their arms linked, watched Cary Grant and Doris Day trade quips and tender embraces, and he felt a pleasant tingle when she leaned over to whisper into his ear and her breath touched his skin. This was the kind of moment he had had so rarely with—

But he wasn't in it. He wasn't in it with her.

He remembered being at the movies once with Nancy, watching some fluttery chatterbox of a starlet caper across the screen, and thinking that while they could watch this, he had _been through_ life that was ten times more exciting than what they were watching, with her. No wonder so much of it bored her. In a week she would probably be dangling one-handed from the railing at the end of a caboose, signaling to a fellow conspirator that the bushy-browed shifty-eyed fellow they sought had entered the dining car. Standing barefoot, bareback on a circus horse as it went speeding madly around the center ring. Swallowing fire. Guiding a prop plane into an emergency landing in an abandoned field.

Carol's hand folded around his as they walked back to the car. "Like it?" she asked lightly, then glanced over at him.

"Loved it," he told her, and smiled.

He had experienced a different kind of life, with Nancy. He just had to readjust. It was slower, out here, easier. What he wanted.

_She only said she couldn't promise. She didn't say no._

At the door to her cabin later that night, Ned discovered that Carol tasted faintly of sickly-sweet chemical strawberries, that she smelled like some delicate white flower, that her fingers were tentative on the back of his neck as she met his kiss.

_She didn't _have_ to say no._

He walked back to his own cabin with his hands in his pockets, gazing up at the pale disk of the moon, the glittering pinpricks of the stars, wondering where she was, wondering if she ever thought of him.

xxxxx

"You _have_ to wear the Kingston dress." Carlotta Walters beamed as she vanished into her sewing room.

Nancy sighed, glancing back at the door. Bess made a face at her. "Remember, he'll be there," she said, and then her blue eyes traveled to a spot over Nancy's right shoulder, and grew wide.

Nancy turned back to see Mrs. Walters very carefully carrying the flame-red dress, the long skirt just a breath above the floor. The design was slightly old-fashioned, but Mrs. Walters had spent the past year restoring vintage costumes, and those little quirks were to be expected.

"I can't, I really can't," Nancy protested, shaking her head. "I couldn't possibly wear it—"

"I insist," Mrs. Walters said, gazing speculatively between Nancy's slender frame and the dress. "Quick, let's see it on. I might have to make just a few little modifications..."

Sighing inwardly, Nancy followed the petite woman back to the sewing room. The dress was one of the least inconspicuous she had ever seen, but if she wanted to catch Anthony's attention, this wouldn't be a terrible way to do it. For a moment she considered asking if Bess could wear the dress instead, but a glance convinced her that would be foolish. Bess didn't have Nancy's height or frame.

Nancy promised to get the dress professionally cleaned before bringing it back, then finally managed to tear herself away. She and Bess selected a pair of high-heeled dancing pumps and long satin gloves to complete the ensemble, then made themselves up carefully for the night.

Curtis Fisher, a tall, square-jawed, extremely handsome man, was escorting Nancy to the dance that evening. Every time she saw him Bess rhapsodized over his good looks, his penetrating gaze, his impeccable manners. Nancy had noticed all those things, and Curt was more than equal to any physical challenge. But he was also inclined to worry and forbid and insist. He wasn't afraid to tell Nancy that she had to step back and let him handle something.

Of course, as soon as she was outside his influence, when she had sent him off on some meaningless errand or otherwise gotten rid of him, she went ahead and did it anyway. While she was too well-mannered to leave her impatience with him undisguised, she knew she would politely turn down any requests he made after the mystery was solved.

He did cut a rather impressive figure in a tuxedo, though, Nancy had to admit.

As soon as they arrived, Nancy scanned the floor for Anthony. The dress was incredibly conspicuous, and she fussed with her gloves, turning expectantly when Curt's fingertips brushed hers.

"Do you see him?"

Curt nodded to the floor. "We might get a better look from out there."

She moved into his arms and they fell easily into the dance together, the rhythm smooth. She caught a few admiring glances lingering on her dress, but she kept looking for Anthony. When he saw her, he would _know_, and that would be her best chance to catch him.

Curt's hand brushed against the small of her back, and Nancy's stomach tightened in answer. She had to carefully school her face before she glanced up at him.

Every time Curt touched her, she was more positive that she hadn't lied to Ned, that it wasn't just him. The pleasant frisson of warmth she felt at Curt's touch wasn't nearly enough to make up for her annoyance at his protectiveness, and the thought of his taking her on a moonlight stroll just filled her with impatience. The tender expression on his face meant he was about to make a fool of himself in some new way, and she scanned the room quickly, searching for Anthony's characteristic scowl.

"Nancy—"

"There he is." Nancy maneuvered so Curt could see him as well. She dropped her hands. "Now we just need—"

Her breath caught in her chest, suddenly, and she was left speechless. She was energized at the prospect of a new clue, but that wasn't it, and Anthony hadn't caught sight of her, not yet. For some reason she could feel her heart beating, could feel a flush rising in her cheeks.

Then Anthony saw her, and his face darkened. Their gazes caught and his mouth tightened and Nancy grasped Curt's hand.

"Go. Go!"

The carpet had been rolled back, revealing a gleaming hardwood floor for dancing, and around the couples moved uniformed waiters carrying silver trays. Curt had to maneuver around the twirling dancers and staff, and Anthony used his head start to dash for the French doors lining the hall.

Nancy felt a hand grip her arm, hard as iron. A hot thread moved against her side. She turned and saw Marianne Kemp's hard grey eyes on level with her own.

"Go home, Nancy Drew," Marianne said, and Nancy saw the red-edged flash of her switchblade as she vanished into the crowd. Nancy staggered a step, and Bess, who had been drawn to Nancy's cry when she saw Anthony, managed to catch her.

"Nancy! Your dress! Did she—"

Nancy cupped a hand over her side and her ivory satin glove came back deep red. "We need to get to the bathroom," she said, keeping her voice level and calm.

"That's the same place—" Bess's blue eyes widened when she saw the blood on Nancy's glove. She let out a dismayed cry.

Nancy nodded. "The same place the formula was hidden on the original dress."

The cut was relatively shallow, but it hurt. Nancy managed to find some gauze and tape to cover her wound, then handed Bess her car keys. "Get the bag out of my trunk, please," she said, gingerly lowering the damaged dress to the floor.

Bess looked from her to the dress. "Nancy, we need to get out of here. Call the police. Tell them Marianne and Anthony are here."

Nancy winced and cupped her hand over her side. "We will, but with any luck we'll have them sewn up before the police get here. My bag. Then call the police. Okay?"

Nancy kept a simple black dress and pumps in her emergency bag, and she gave Bess the damaged red dress, taking a few tabs of aspirin. As the other girl went in search of a phone, Nancy smoothed down her hair, then rushed out of the bathroom, hoping Marianne had stayed to relish her handiwork. Nancy had to dodge around a waiter, and her elbow brushed the side of a girl in a mint-green summer dress.

"Oh, sorry," Nancy said breathlessly, barely glancing at the girl, but then she looked up to the man next to her. Brown hair. Warm brown eyes.

Ned.

For a ridiculous, foolish second, she was disappointed that she hadn't run into him a few minutes earlier, while she was still in the red dress.

Nancy grabbed his hand. The warmth of his skin sent a tingle straight up to the center of her chest. "Come on," she said urgently. "If you— I need another set of eyes."

Ned and his date, the brunette in the mint-green dress, came along with her. Nancy could hear the girl murmuring questions to Ned, heard him say her name, as she scanned the floor for Marianne. No sign of her, or of Curt or Anthony. Nancy headed for the French doors, the last place she had seen Anthony, the other girl's heels slapping loudly against the dancefloor.

"Who are we looking for?"

"Marianne Kemp. Grey eyes, dark hair, about my height. White dress. Jason Anthony, dark hair and dark eyes, a few inches shorter than me." Nancy gasped in a breath, her hand cupping her side. "Ned, what are you doing here?"

"Came for the dance," he explained. The garden appeared deserted; Nancy saw no movement, although either of the pair could be ducking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to escape. Even so, the hot tightness in her side made her grimace at the thought of doing a more careful search.

"Carol, Nancy. Nancy, Carol. Should we split up?"

Nancy frowned. "Curt is following Anthony but he'll probably need help. Let's head for the parking lot. They've been using a black late-model sedan, and the left headlight is cracked."

They were halfway through the parking lot when Ned peeled off, jogging to the guard's station. His white dinner jacket was bright in the moonlight. Nancy and Carol wordlessly kept looking at the cars. Despite the adrenaline pounding through her, Nancy found herself unable to take her hand from her side.

Bess rushed out. "Nancy!"

"Over here," Nancy called, as Ned returned, barely beating Bess to them.

"The guard says he saw a car matching that description about four minutes ago. Followed by a grey late-model coupe."

"Curt," Nancy said, then groaned.

"The police are on the way," Bess said.

"But they're too late. And Curt took the car. Ned, did you bring yours?"

"Sure."

"Would you mind terribly..."

Ned's warm brown eyes met hers, then narrowed a little, and he glanced from her face to the palm she had cupped over her side. His mouth tightened a little, and he pulled the keys out of his pocket as the foursome headed to his car.

"You're hurt," he said quietly, as his car peeled out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel.

"I'll be all right," Nancy replied, still favoring her side. "I have him scared now. With any luck he'll betray himself. Or Marianne will."

Ned glanced into the rearview. Bess and Carol were in the backseat. "Sorry about this, honey," he said, and Nancy's breath caught painfully in her chest. "I know this wasn't quite what we planned."

"Well, I'd definitely say you owe me a hamburger after this, Nickerson," Carol returned. "So, Nancy. Nice to meet you. And...?"

Bess introduced herself. "And how do you know our old friend Ned?"

Despite her focus on the road ahead of them, her gaze sweeping for the glow of a headlight, Nancy strained to hear Carol's answer, her cheeks burning a little. "He and I are counselors at the camp down the road," Carol explained. "And he was kind enough to take me out for a real evening after chaperoning the dance. Although this wasn't quite what I had in mind. Old friend, you say?"

"Oh, yes," Bess said breezily. "Nancy and I have known him for _ages_. He's a fantastic guy."

Ned shot a quick glance over at Nancy. "Coming up on a turnpike soon," he said.

Every single beat of her heart was thick in her throat, and Nancy felt suddenly drained. "I don't know which way he'd go," Nancy admitted. "If I had to guess I'd say west but we could go miles without seeing anyone. I guess we'd better head back to the dance and wait for Curt."

"Curt?"

"Curtis Fisher. My—escort." Nancy sucked in a swift breath.

Ned glanced over at her again. "We aren't going back to the dance. You need a doctor."

"I'll be—okay."

Ned shook his head. "We have a nurse at the camp. Okay? Will that work?"

The stitches didn't take long, but the nurse, grumpy with exhaustion, did insist on them. Nancy clenched her fist hard at the pain, then felt warmth against her hand. Ned's fingers. She grasped them hard and he didn't even wince.

"Okay," the nurse said, cutting off another square of gauze to cover the stitching once it was finished. "Keep it clean and go to the doctor to get it checked soon, just in case there's any sign of infection."

Nancy nodded, and didn't realize her hand was still wrapped around Ned's until he started to release it. She glanced over at him, then back down again.

The dance had only grown louder and more crowded in their absence. Nancy thanked Ned again for his help and apologized to Carol for interrupting their evening.

"I'm dying for a drink," Bess confessed, and headed inside, drawing Carol into conversation so the other girl would come with her. Carol did cast a glance back over her shoulder at Ned just before the doors closed behind her, and then Nancy and Ned were alone.

"Thanks," Nancy said. "Again. You managed to get here at just the right moment."

"Not just the right moment," he said, glancing pointedly at her side. "Just a little sooner..."

Nancy shrugged. "I'll be fine," she said.

Ned nodded, and a silence fell between them. A woman's delighted laughter drifted over from the garden.

"So Curtis has been... helping you."

Nancy tilted her head, drawn to the sound of the female laughter, half-hoping it was Marianne. She began to walk slowly toward the garden, and Ned followed. "Only recently, and once this mystery is solved..." She trailed off, and Ned relaxed a little.

The couple in the garden wasn't Marianne or Anthony. The moon hung above them half-full, edging the leaves in silver.

She had forgotten, how walking like this gave her the curious sensation that their heartbeats were somehow attuned. The silence between them wasn't as comfortable as it had once been, and it felt close, full of everything she had said, everything he had wanted.

"Nancy."

She turned to him, and was half relieved, half disappointed when a car pulled into the lot, squealing to a hard stop. With an apologetic glance she walked quickly back to the lot, in time to see Curt slam the door behind him.

"Nancy."

Her name sounded different on Curt's lips. Curt cast a suspicious glance at Ned until Nancy waved a hand. "Did you catch up with them?"

"_Them_? I lost Anthony on the other side of the lake. He passed a truck and by the time I could follow, he had... vanished." Curt shook his head. "Curtis Fisher."

"Ned Nickerson," Ned replied, extending his hand. "And I'll leave Nancy in your capable hands; I believe Carol is waiting for me. Nancy."

He took her hand and she glanced up at him, a little bemused at the formality. "Ned," she said, giving him a little bow. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," he said, his gaze steady on hers. Then he released her hand and his absence was tight in her chest.

It took hours, after the police arrived, after Nancy repaired the dress and made arrangements for it to be cleaned, for her to finally get to bed. She had seen Ned dancing with Carol a few times, while she was on the floor with Curt. The sight had made her physically ill, as though their terrible conversation had happened hours and not weeks before. He left without saying goodbye, just the momentary lock of their gazes across the crowded dance floor.

She remembered times that Ned had been so frustrated at seeing another man dance with her that he had cut in before courtesy would have allowed it. She remembered moonlit walks and stolen kisses and that strange silent communion. She had forgotten that, somehow, forgotten how it was to be so close to him.

With a stifled cry she rose from her bed to pull the curtains back and gaze out the window, at the still lake, the moon overhead.

_I miss you._

It was so very hard to say those words.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a family tradition, one Ned imagined continuing with his own family one day. The day after Thanksgiving, he went with his parents to the Christmas tree farm to pick out an impressive specimen. Then they took it home and decorated it with tinsel and strands of lights and glass ornaments, and capped off the night with mugs of hot cocoa.

Some small part of him was a little hyperalert, though, as he and his parents walked into the main tree farm just on the outskirts of Mapleton, near the train station. He had left Margaret with a brief kiss and the thought that maybe, by next year at this time, he would be sitting down for a serious discussion with her father, one that would end much more happily than another he could remember. His parents had met Meg, and praised her vibrance and beauty. She would make an excellent daughter-in-law.

That was fine, with Ned. He followed his parents with his mittened hands in the pockets of his letterman's jacket, snow already dusting lightly in their hair. Strings of white lights marked off the tree lot in the darkness. Small children ducked through the rows, playing tag with each other.

The moon was high above them, in a sea of pinprick stars.

Ned wasn't sure what it was about that sight; he so rarely had taken Nancy on moonlight strolls or drives. Maybe it was the memory of the last time he had seen her, at the dance, the pale oval of her face in the garden, and how he had almost said something she would have chastised him for even thinking.

He missed her. He didn't think of it so often now, but he missed her. His relationship with Carol had barely been a relationship, and hadn't lasted long; all he felt for Meg was admiration, appreciation for her beauty and intelligence, but nothing more passionate.

Someone else had to be out there. Someone who would be his grand passion, his equal in every way, who would leave him in no doubt that whatever else his life included, it had to include _her_.

Someone who wasn't Nancy Drew.

"This one?"

Ned shook himself, then glanced over at his mother. "Oh. Yes. This one looks perfect."

Edith Nickerson raised her eyebrows at her son. "You're a million miles away, tonight. Missing Meg?"

Ned nodded, welcoming the excuse. "But I'll be seeing her soon. I'm sorry. This one really does look good."

After debating over three other options and haggling with the owner of the tree farm, Ned and his father took up the tree. The owner offered to help them tie it to the car, and boosted the burlapped roots up on his shoulder. "I'm sure you know how to keep it looking fresh," he commented to Ned's mother.

Ned's gaze was drawn by a lighted jewelry display window across the street. A large heart-shaped emerald pendant lay on a field of beige velvet. An emerald would go well with Meg's coloring. He had to—

A dark, stocky man wearing a cap pulled low over his eyes bumped into Ned's shoulder. Ned's gaze traveled to follow him, but the man didn't even bother mumbling an apology as he rushed down the sidewalk toward the train station. Hurtling after him was a girl in a long white wool coat and cap, one arm raised.

"Stop!"

Ned dashed after the man in singleminded pursuit. From the train station, a crowd of freshly disembarked passengers was milling on the sidewalk, chattering with each other. The stocky man nearly tripped over a jutting suitcase, but rushed on desperately. Ned had to dart into the street to maneuver around a slow-moving couple, and when he narrowly avoided being clipped by a car, he hopped back up onto the sidewalk, growling in frustration.

The city was too dark, however. Behind a wall of obscuring people the other man could have vanished into an alley, or maybe into the train station, maybe even toward the docks. Ned, panting, threw up his hands in frustration. Without knowing where the man might be, choosing a path would probably waste more time than he could possibly gain.

The girl in the white coat stopped beside him, panting with exertion as well. "Which way did he go?"

"I'm not sure," Ned admitted, turning to her. "Did he snatch your purse, ma'am—Bess?"

Bess Marvin shot him a brief smile. "Hey. Thought that was you. Listen, Nancy and George and I were separated, and I was trying to find that man." She nodded vaguely in that general direction. "Nancy thinks he's been smuggling a top-secret chemical compound in souvenir snowglobes. Anyway, she followed another member of the gang onto the train, and we think they have a hideout in Riverton, so they'll probably be there, but—"

"Take a breath," Ned advised, not unkindly. "So are you to rendezvous there?"

"We didn't say," Bess admitted. "And I'm worried, because the man Nancy and George were trailing is this huge, brutal monster who managed to escape from the police—"

"Say no more," Ned said, holding up a palm. "I'll go. Riverton?"

Bess nodded. "Oh, Ned, thank you so much. I'm so glad I ran into you!"

Ned nodded, feeling in his pockets for change for a ticket. "Please tell my parents the situation so they don't worry about me," he said, already heading toward the station. "I'll catch up with them and come back here. And if you do spot that other man, _please_ call a policeman!"

Ned barely managed to buy a ticket and board the train before it departed. Once the doors had closed and he had time to think, though, Ned realized how hopeless the situation was. Once he reached Riverton, how was he to find them? A hideout could be anywhere.

Regardless, Ned set his shoulders, steeling himself for whatever he might find at that stop. He hadn't felt nearly so energized since his last football game.

He was one of the first ones to disembark, and he jogged to the ticket counter. "The docks?" he asked, and was rewarded with a disinterested indication that he should head south.

The roads were sparsely traveled, although Ned could see tire tracks in the snow. Couples were walking home hand in hand from the few stores that were open for Thanksgiving-day business. A still-lighted gas station drew Ned's attention for a moment, and he wished briefly that he had asked what color Nancy was wearing, or any other way to find her—

But he didn't have time to think about that. Ned put the collar of his coat up to keep the snow off his neck and jogged in the direction of the docks. He scrutinized the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of a glossy dark bob, or the flash of reddish gold.

A cry, cut off suddenly.

Ned stopped, barely breathing, then ran in the direction he judged it had come from. In this section of town he could barely hear radios and televisions from inside cheap tenement houses, and abandoned toys laid on their sides in small yards, creating strange ominous silhouettes in the darkness. He heard the slap of a woman's heels on the pavement, and George wheeled around a corner, panting, pursued by a large, hulking figure.

Ned moved toward them as quickly as he could, taking care not to slide in the snow. "Hey!" he called, hoping to distract the man. George heard Ned and began to shy away. Of course. He was a man approaching her in the darkness, and she was clearly panicked.

"George!"

She hesitated, and the man used the opportunity to close the space between them. George risked a glance over her shoulder and let out a startled cry, and Ned glanced around, hoping to find something he could use defensively. The alley was lined with trash. An abandoned pallet: too heavy. A few crumbling cinder blocks...

The man made a grab for George, but she pirouetted out of his grasp, and he lost his balance on the slick pavement. He recovered, but it took a moment, and Ned managed to scoop up one of the cinder blocks and pitch it toward the man, directing it like a heavy football.

George winced as the man hit the pavement. "Ned," she said, coming toward him. "What are you doing here?"

"Ran into Bess," he explained, glancing down at the prone man who had been chasing George. "Look," he said quietly, "I told Bess we would meet her back at Mapleton, so go ahead to the train station and we'll meet up there. Where's Nancy?"

George glanced back over her shoulder. "Last I saw she was—oh, come on, I'll show you."

Ned fought down his misgivings and followed George, whose coat flapped out behind her. He shot a glance back behind him but the man wasn't moving; Ned hoped he had been stunned long enough to keep out of their way until they boarded the train back to Mapleton.

They heard another cry. Ned, energized by fear for what could be happening, put on an extra burst of speed and bypassed George. A dim light showed in a warehouse office halfway down the strip, and through the cracked opening in the door Ned could hear the sounds of a scuffle.

He glanced over at George. "Go. Now," he ordered her, jerking his head back the way they had come.

"You might need help," she hissed in return.

Ned sighed and looked around for another weapon to use. His hands were shaking a little from adrenaline. He had to get in there, had to help her.

Just then the door swung open, and Ned and George sank back into the shadows. Three men. One of them had Nancy thrown over his shoulder; her hands were bound, her mouth gagged, and she was struggling.

"Just dump 'er in the water," the one in the lead advised. "That'll take care of 'er."

George moved past Ned. He grabbed the hem of her coat, but it slipped out of his grasp. She vanished into the warehouse office, and Ned sighed, then began to creep toward the three men, keeping to the shadows as much as he could.

Half a minute had passed when he felt a hand on his arm. "What did you do?"

"You'll see," George whispered. "We need to split them up."

"George," Ned hissed, but she slipped out of his grasp again.

"Hey!" the brunette called, and the three men turned. She set off at a dead run, back toward the train station, and Ned hoped she would just go there, and stay inside where she would be relatively safe.

"Get her," the leader said, and two of the men set out after George. The one carrying Nancy, however, was only a few steps away from the edge of the river.

Then the warehouse office exploded.

The man turned, orange firelight reflecting on his face, and let out a string of epithets. Ned watched, heart in his throat, waiting for the man to make a decision. For a long, awful few seconds Ned was sure he was just going to toss her in the water; instead, he put her down on the pavement. "Stay," he ordered her roughly, then ran toward the burning office.

Ned breathed a silent prayer of relief, then came over to Nancy. Her blue eyes widened when she saw him, and he immediately grasped the knots holding her hands in place.

"Hey!"

One of the men had continued to pursue George, but the other had been attracted to the explosion and had caught sight of Ned. "Sorry," Ned apologized to Nancy as he cast about for something to use. She continued to struggle against her bonds, making muffled noises from behind the gag.

Ned found a length of pipe, and he and the second man approached each other warily. The man who had been carrying Nancy had gone into the office, apparently trying to salvage whatever was left from the explosion. The henchman made the first move, making a wide swipe, and Ned ducked, lashing out with the pipe. The other man pulled a gun and Ned, barely breathing now, managed to knock it out of his hand and kick it safely into the water.

By the end of the fight, Ned knew his jaw was bruised and his chest was sore, but he overpowered the other man and managed to toss him into the water. The man surfaced with a terrible epithet, and Ned raced back to Nancy, who had managed to work the gag off.

"Ned," she said, gazing up at him. "How—"

"Long story," Ned said, keeping an eye on the warehouse as he pulled out his Swiss army knife. Ten seconds later, Nancy was chafing her irritated wrists as she and Ned dashed away from the fire.

"What the—"

"If you can't run, tell me now," Ned said as the leader ran out of the office and caught sight of them.

"I can," she told him, keeping pace as they ran around the corner, into the alley. He didn't know where her coat was, but she looked cold in her navy blue dress. Ned was glad he'd kept his grip on the length of pipe.

"You get _back_ here!"

Nancy risked a glance behind them. "Know any shortcuts?"

Ned shook his head. "Is he going to stop once we reach the station?"

"Sure hope so."

The man Ned had left in the alley was just rising to his elbows, moaning a little. "Pick one of those up," Ned barked, and Nancy obeyed, letting out a soft surprised gasp at the weight of the cinder block.

"Here."

This time, the projectile missed, but it bought them a few seconds. They scrabbled around the corner and Ned glanced around wildly. The gas station was dark now, but the train station, a block further, was still lit.

"Here." Nancy grabbed his hand and Ned raced over to the gas station with her. They ducked behind a stack of tires together, and Nancy's breath was still coming in hard pants.

Her hand was cool and a little damp in his.

"You have to be freezing," Ned whispered, reaching for her other hand. She glanced at him, her blue eyes wide, as he sandwiched her hands between his. "So what do we do?"

"Where's George?"

"I told her to meet us back at the train station."

The leader of the gang came out of the mouth of the alley, accompanied by the henchman Ned and George had taken down earlier. They glanced around, and Ned studied the street. The only real light came from the train station, so they headed that way.

"Have any change?"

Ned groped in his pockets and managed to come up with a pair of dimes. Nancy took his hand again and Ned swallowed as they ducked from shadow to shadow, heading for the phone booth at the corner of the lot. They both squeezed into the booth, and while Ned kept an eye on the men pursuing them, Nancy called the Mapleton police. By the time she hung up, the men had nearly reached the train station.

"Think George is safe in there?"

They were standing incredibly close to each other, and Nancy's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, almost as dark as her dress. "If she stays out of sight, maybe," Ned managed to say. "We're sitting ducks in here, though."

Nancy tilted her head down in acknowledgement. "Nice to be out of the wind, though," she said, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Ned shook his head. At least he was wearing a thick sweater under his coat. "Here," he said, struggling to get out of his coat in the small space.

"I can't—"

"Just take it," he advised her, and she shrugged into his coat, still shivering as she fastened all the buttons.

"Thanks," she said softly, glancing up at him.

"Sure," Ned said, and for a second their gazes caught and held.

"And thanks for saving my life."

"Anytime," Ned said, searching her eyes.

Nancy was the first to look away. "Okay, I think we can move now," she said, glancing over at the station.

She took his hand again, as they went behind the station, skirting through a few back lots to circle around. When they were close enough to see the schedule, Ned scrutinized it, then sighed.

"The last train to Mapleton comes in five minutes. Think the police will have made it by then?"

Nancy shook her head.

"Think we can sneak onto it without them seeing?"

Nancy paused, then shook her head. "Maybe if we had a little more time or were extremely lucky, but I'm not leaving George here."

Ned nodded. "Okay. Any ideas, Detective Drew?"

"We could call a taxi, if I had any money."

The pair was quiet for a moment, watching avidly as the two thieves prowled around the ticket counter. Nancy gasped when she saw a dark silhouette at the back of the station, and Ned held his breath as she gestured to George, hissing "Over here! Over here!"

The train rushed into the station, and the two men went to meet it as George ran over to Nancy and Ned. "Everything okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"Fine, except that our way home is about to leave," Ned said wryly. "You okay?"

George nodded. "So now what?"

The three of them walked back to the gas station, keeping a sharp eye on the train station. Nancy took Ned's last dime and called for a taxi, explaining that their car had been disabled and they needed a ride back to Mapleton.

"Hope Bess still has her purse," Nancy said, rubbing her arms, then glanced over at Ned. "I'm sorry. You okay?"

"Fine," Ned said, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Now we just have to hope that they don't get over here before the taxi gets here."

"Did you call a Riverton cab company?"

Nancy nodded, her gaze fixed on the train station.

"We should be okay."

Ned couldn't help but exult a little when they slid into the cab and the two men came out of the station, then rushed after them. The driver didn't see them, and Ned chuckled a little as they made exasperated gestures, stopping short on the pavement.

Nancy was sandwiched between Ned and George, in the backseat. The snow drifted in fat white flakes in front of the cab's headlights, slowly, and the heater was barely reaching them in the back.

Nancy's leg was against his, and Ned told himself not to think about it, just not think about it. He held his hand palm up on his thigh and felt his heart slow, a little. It sped back up, though, when a pair of police cars passed them on the way to the train station.

"Think they'll still be there?" George asked.

"Maybe," Nancy said. "But if not, we know where they'll be tomorrow—stocking up on supplies. Good work, George."

"Thanks."

Nancy touched Ned's hand. "And... good work too, Ned."

He didn't want to meet her eyes, he didn't, but he had to. They were so, so close. She blinked slowly up at him, and George turned to glance out the window, and oh, Nancy had sworn that she hadn't felt it, but he felt it now, stronger than ever. He had never wanted so badly to kiss her.

Nancy blinked lazily again. "I..."

"What," he said softly, and he didn't mean to do it, but he gently touched her chin, stroking the soft skin.

"Maybe I was wrong," she said quietly.

"About what?"

"That... that night," she said, and even in the dim light coming through the cab windows, he could see a faint blush in her cheeks. "In the... in the cabin. I think I was just afraid."

George's head whipped around, and Ned brushed his thumb over Nancy's chin again. "That's okay," he said softly.

Bess was waiting for them at the train station, pacing and glancing at her watch every few seconds. "Jeepers, what took you so long?" she exclaimed as she came down the stairs. Ned saw his parents' car down the block, the tree firmly tied on top.

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other once the taxi was paid off, when Bess and George were murmuring to each other and Ned's father was walking toward them from his car. "So."

"Oh," Nancy said, and took his coat off, then offered it to him. "Here."

Ned took his coat back, still gazing down at her. "Nancy... look. Take care of yourself, okay? What would you have done if I hadn't been there tonight?"

She shook her head. "But you were."

"By the barest luck and chance. Don't you... where's Curtis?"

She shook her head again. "That's... I haven't seen him in a while. And... Carol, was it?"

"I haven't seen her in a while," Ned admitted. "I've been seeing Margaret—Meg. You'd really like her," he found himself saying, somehow. "She's really smart, and amazing."

Nancy nodded, and while she hadn't quite been smiling, she was smiling even less now. "James is really great, too."

"That's... I'm really happy for you. Just... just make sure he sticks around, okay? You three can't handle everything."

"Sure we can."

Their gazes held for a moment longer, and then Ned's father reached them. "Nancy," he said in greeting. "Nice to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Mr. Nickerson," Nancy said. "Thank you again, Ned. You... you were great tonight."

On the way to his parents' car, Ned glanced back. Nancy was linked between Bess and George and their heads were bent together. When Nancy glanced in his direction, their gazes met again and Ned almost lost his footing.

There was someone, someone he wanted more than anything or anyone else. Someone he was pretty sure he would always want that way.

He just needed to make her realize she felt the same way.


	4. Chapter 4

Nancy didn't quite remember all that well what happened that night at the docks. The henchmen had tried to sedate her with chloroform or something like it, and she knew she had probably gotten a concussion during the scuffle; she had found a nice knot on her head the next morning. What she did remember, though, was Ned, and the expression in his eyes.

She was a little startled nonetheless, three days later, when she checked the mail and found an envelope addressed to her, in Ned's handwriting.

_Nancy,_

_I'll be home for the Christmas break on Dec. 21. I know you'll be busy with your family, and maybe even with a case, but I would very much like to take you out for lunch or maybe a movie. I thought we could use the time to catch up with each other._

_I'm very glad that Bess happened to run into me the other night. I'm glad I was able to help._

_If you would be free for a luncheon, please let me know. You can write me or reach me by phone at the Omega Chi house._

_Ned_

Nancy read it four times, then called Bess and read the entire thing aloud to her, before she could change her mind and keep it to herself. Besides, she relished the pure glee in Bess's voice when she was finished.

"I am _so glad_ I ran into him too," Bess gushed. "Oh, Nancy! George said you two had your heads together in the cab..."

Nancy flushed a little. "I... I can't really remember what I said," she admitted, wincing. "You saw him. Did he look..."

"Like he very much wanted to take you on a date and get down on one knee and serenade you and then maybe marry you and have babies with you?" Bess's voice rose in pitch until she was almost squealing at the end.

"Bess," Nancy sighed.

"You write him back _right now_ and tell him you're free, oh, for the entire next _year_, Nancy Drew. Or I will."

"James—"

Bess made a _tchah _sound. "James would hide behind _me_ during a fight and goes along with whatever you say," she declared. "I haven't said anything because he is really cute and you seem to like him, but after Curtis, I think you were too afraid to be with someone who was going to stand up for himself."

_And after Ned,_ she didn't say, and Nancy didn't say either. "It's just lunch," Nancy mused aloud. "I should think that if he wanted to say anything serious, he would at least ask for a dinner date. Besides, I have a vague recollection that he's been dating someone else."

"Don't you _dare_ talk yourself out of going on this date," Bess said fiercely.

Even so, once Nancy hung up the phone, she gazed down at the letter for a long moment.

_Ned,_

_It was very nice to see you again. I have to thank you again for helping us with that situation. You were invaluable._

_I'll look forward to seeing you after you've returned home for the break. Luncheon would be wonderful. If nothing else I can regale you with stories from some of my recent cases, though you may be tired of such talk by now._

_Please give me a call when you have returned to Mapleton so we can make firm plans._

_Nancy_

The letters continued, brief, tentative, carefully avoiding mentioning either Meg or James. With some trepidation Nancy did actually find herself anticipating seeing him again, in a planned way this time. She didn't want to expect anything.

With a sigh Nancy sat down in the window seat, gazing out at the snow drifts on the lawn without seeing them. It had been easier—it _would_ be easier, even now—to dismiss the tiny frisson that had passed over her when she and Ned were alone in the cabin, whenever their gazes met. Oh, she _hated_ how out of control thinking about it made her feel. The prospect of seeing him again just made it worse, in a situation that wasn't the comfortable chaos of a mystery. Making conversation, gazing into those warm brown eyes of his again—

Nancy shook herself, resisting the urge to retrieve the letter and rip it up. She was being foolish. It was _lunch_. She had no problems facing down thieves, gang members and kidnappers, but the prospect of an hour spent with Ned over sandwiches was more terrifying.

A week and a half later, the telegram arrived. At first Nancy thought it might be from her father, who was in New York for a few days on business, but from the first words she knew it wasn't. She checked the address; the telegram had been sent from the station near Emerson College.

SHORT NOTICE BUT WINTER FORMAL SAT NIGHT. WOULD BE HONORED IF I COULD ESCORT YOU.

The telegram was unsigned. Immediately Nancy found herself reaching for the phone to call Bess, but Bess's mother told Nancy that Bess was shopping with her cousin George. Nancy smiled to herself, imagining George's exasperation at watching Bess parade around in wool coats and long dresses, and settled back into the window seat. Shopping excursions with George were never that long; Bess would be home soon.

Soon her impatience had caught up with her and Nancy went to the kitchen, looking for Hannah. Her heart was beating so fast that she had to restrain herself from running through the living room to get there.

"Nancy!"

The Drews' housekeeper had her cookbooks spread out on the counter and was planning the week's meals. She gave Nancy a warm smile as the girl took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Was the telegram from your father?"

Nancy shook her head impatiently, sweeping her golden hair out of her eyes. "It was an invitation to the winter formal dance at Emerson Saturday night."

Hannah's eyes widened. "That's very soon. I'm surprised that Ned didn't ask you sooner."

"Maybe he had a date who said she couldn't make it," Nancy mused aloud. "Or he wasn't able to find the nerve to ask. But he hasn't even mentioned it in his letters."

Hannah gazed at Nancy curiously, but had her attention back on her shopping list when Nancy glanced up. "I need a great dress, Hannah," she announced. "Something grand and sophisticated."

"Which sounds just like something Miss Marvin would adore helping you find," Hannah commented.

Nancy sighed. "She's out shopping already. And I need to go _now_."

"You could try all the usual places that Bess visits," Hannah suggested, turning a cookbook page.

"I could," Nancy agreed.

Bess was ecstatic on hearing about Nancy's telegram, and the two spent a fruitless afternoon browsing through the River Heights shops and boutiques. Conscious of how quickly the dance was approaching, the girls invited George to go on an expedition to Chicago.

"Maybe the dresses won't be as picked-over there," Bess exclaimed with some dismay. "These all look like last season's castoffs. Oh, to have a figure like yours," she sighed, as Nancy scrutinized and rejected all the ball gowns in her wardrobe.

"It can't be something that Ned's seen already."

Bess nodded immediately, taking a bite of a cracker from the snack tray Hannah had sent up with them. "Oooh! I'll bring my _Vogue_ magazine so we can look at it on the train."

Nancy scowled and selected a cheese cube from the tray. "If we had enough time I could have Hannah whip something up for me. I just don't want to look like any of the other girls there."

Bess raised her eyebrows. "Any more letters from Ned?" she asked innocently.

"Not since yesterday," Nancy said, and smacked Bess gently with one of her throw pillows. "You seem very concerned."

"The soap opera Mom and I watch hasn't been as interesting this week," Bess rationalized, and took another cracker. "Oh, I'm _so glad_ you're going to the dance. It wasn't going to be nearly as much fun without you there."

Nancy frowned slightly as her stomach did a slow flip. When it had just been a lunch, she hadn't felt nearly this level of anxiety.

George was ready to throw her hands up in exasperation thirty minutes into their Chicago shopping trip. "It looks _so amazing_ on you," Bess insisted.

"I'm not going to a funeral!" George retorted, playing with the full skirt of the black silk dress. "We could at least pick something _festive_."

"Well, what about that gorgeous tartan A-line we saw at the department store two days ago?"

"I looked like a _tablecloth_!"

Nancy wandered away from the dressing room and the sound of the cousins' bickering, toward the high-end department. The mannequins wore close-fitting long dresses, their plaster hands on their hips. Nancy flipped through a few racks, but she kept seeing the same series of dresses, over and over.

Three stores later, Bess and George had found their dresses, and George was staring impatiently at her watch. "We have to leave soon to get to the train station on time," she said for what felt like the tenth time.

Nancy was in the dressing room, frowning at a navy-blue velvet dress. "I'll be out soon," she sighed, reaching for the zipper. "Guess I'll just wear that white gown Hannah made for me last year. Maybe she can trim it in some gold lace before I have to leave."

The saleslady who had been assisting Nancy in her search knocked at the dressing room door. "Miss? Nancy? I know you're in a hurry, but I remembered that we had this in the back..."

A moment later, Nancy had pulled the dress over her head and zipped it up. Then she turned to look at her reflection, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Bess? George?"

It was just different enough, from the current style. The material was an amber satin with a gold overlay, and the color brought out the copper in Nancy's hair. The collar was high at the back, narrowing to a point just above her cleavage. The silhouette emphasized her narrow waist, and the full skirt's hem barely brushed the floor. A pair of pumps would put it at the perfect length.

Bess covered her mouth. "You look so..."

George nodded. "Like a queen," she said, and her cousin nodded in agreement.

"You need a gold chain with a diamond, and a pair of gloves, and those teardrop earrings would look _perfect_, and—"

George sighed. "And please take it to the counter and buy it _now_, before we're stranded in Chicago for the night."

On the afternoon of the dance, Bess was carefully piling Nancy's hair on top of her head when Nancy suddenly gasped.

"What is it? Did that last bobby pin hit your scalp?"

"No." Nancy looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Bess, what if Ned _didn't_ send me that telegram?"

"You replied, didn't you?" Bess said through a mouth full of bobby pins.

"Yes," Nancy said slowly.

"And you didn't get a telegram saying 'I don't know what you're talking about'?"

"I didn't. But he didn't mention it in his letters—"

"But you said it yourself, that maybe he wasn't even planning on attending until earlier this week," Bess pointed out. "Nancy, just relax. When he sees you in this dress..." Bess shook her head, imagining. "You will steal his heart all over again."

Nancy forced herself to take a slow, calming breath. _Steal his heart again._

But Ned wasn't there, when Nancy arrived. She and Ned hadn't agreed on a rendezvous beforehand, and while she would have loved to walk in on his arm, seeing the expression on his face when he saw _her_ was really what she was looking forward to.

Even so, when the first Emerson student asked her to dance, his eyes alight with appreciation at her ensemble, she felt it would be impolite to refuse. Even though his arms weren't the ones she wanted to feel around her.

* * *

><p>The winter formal. As soon as it had been announced, Ned had asked Meg and she had accepted. It was the last real event of the Emerson semester, before exams set in and then all the students went home to their families for the holidays. Ned had been looking forward to it. He always enjoyed a dance.<p>

Now, though, he found himself looking forward to an entirely different event: the luncheon Nancy had promised him once he went home. Meg would probably be at the dance as well, and Ned had no real desire to run into her. He was sure she would be unfailingly polite, but he still didn't want to see her.

Practice had run long that afternoon, and once he was back at the Omega Chi house, a project he had been putting off caught his attention. Working on it seemed infinitely preferable to going to the dance, when the one person he wanted to see wouldn't be there.

For the barest second, once he had known he and Meg wouldn't be attending together, he had considered inviting Nancy. But it was too soon for that, and he would only have been able to give her a few days' notice. He could just imagine the ice-blue dress she had worn the previous year. She had been so gorgeous.

A knock at Ned's door startled him out of his reverie, and Dave poked his head in. "Ned! Why aren't you in your tux?"

Ned shrugged at his desk. "Big project to get done."

"_Tonight_?" Dave said incredulously. "Really? You have all weekend to work on that. Come on. Get going! It'll be just the thing to take your mind off Meg."

Ned hit the showers and came to the dance when it was well underway. He was so late that by the time he arrived, the king and queen of the dance were already being named.

"And the king of our Winter Formal is Alan Peters, Delta Kappa Epsilon president! Congratulations, Mr. Peters. Our queen is... why, it's none other than Nancy Drew!"

Ned's heart stopped.

Over the cheering crowd he was able to see the master of ceremonies seat a glass crown on a golden head, but he couldn't see the rest of her. As the newly crowned king and queen moved out onto the dance floor, Ned couldn't tear his gaze away. He could see her, her blue eyes alight, a slight grin on her face, as Peters led her expertly around the floor.

"Ned!"

Ned kept his eyes on Nancy for a moment longer before turning to find the source of the voice. "Bess, very nice to see you here. I'm glad you were able to come."

Bess's blue eyes sparkled up at him. "Can you believe Nancy was just crowned queen?" she exclaimed.

"And if you'd been here on time, Ned, I'm sure you'd be the man dancing with her right now," Dave chided gently.

"Did Peters escort her here?" Ned wasn't aware that he was clenching his right hand into a fist until his knuckles began to hurt.

"No," Bess said firmly, exchanging a glance with Dave. "And I'm sure she would love to put you down for a dance."

Ned shook his head. "I can't believe she didn't even let me know she was coming," he commented.

"I know she didn't make up her mind to come until very recently," Bess commented. "Go on, Ned."

Ned waited until the song ended, his stomach doing slow flips, then began to make his way through the crowd toward her, and everyone else seemed to just flow away.

She was thanking Alan for the dance, and then she turned and glanced up, and her eyes met Ned's.

Absently Ned had taken his usual care over his appearance, but even so he wished that he had made sure his shave had been entirely smooth, that he had taken more time on his hair. He wore his classic tux with a white dress shirt and polished shoes, and he hadn't been unaware of the appreciative glances that had been directed his way.

But Nancy... she looked positively regal. Her gown was perfectly tailored to her curves, and a diamond teardrop pendant hung on a golden chain around her neck. She wore elbow-length ivory gloves and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head, and her glass-jeweled crown was just slightly off-center on her hair.

And her blue eyes were wide and beautiful as they met his.

Ned saw his name on her lips and she picked up her skirts and he somehow managed not to just run toward her. They approached each other, unmindful of the hush in the crowd around them as the next song began.

"Nancy," Ned said, unable to take his eyes off her. "You look... you look amazing."

"You look very handsome," Nancy told him, and he wasn't imagining that her cheeks were a bit pinker now. "I'm sorry you were delayed."

"Me too," Ned said, reaching for her hand. Then he caught himself. "May I—have this dance?"

She dipped her head and moved into his arms.

For half the dance Ned just concentrated on the peerless glory of having her in his arms. They moved together as though they had never parted, and Ned had never found another partner, in dancing or any other sense, so perfectly suited to him.

"So which of these lucky men asked you here tonight?"

Nancy leaned back a little, laughing blue eyes gazing up into his. "Why..." she began, then tilted her head. "You, of course."

Ned shook his head wonderingly. "While I almost did... I think I would remember that phone call."

Nancy was slowing in his arms. "It wasn't a call, it was a telegram," she said, and then her brow cleared. "An _unsigned_ telegram. Sent from the Emerson station. And you didn't send it, did you."

Ned shook his head. "But it brought you here."

"And who, exactly, would have done that," Nancy mused, moving a little closer to him.

"Certainly the man who approached you with eyes alight to ask you for that first dance."

"Who immediately after left me to my own devices," Nancy said decisively. "I don't believe so. No, I think a much better candidate is that pair to our right, trying very much to look like they aren't spying on us."

Ned glanced over to see Bess and Dave, patently innocent expressions on their faces, dancing nearby.

When the song ended, Ned escorted Nancy over to the refreshments table. "I wanted to invite you."

"It meant a lot to me, that I thought you did," Nancy admitted, accepting the glass of warm cider he offered her. "I've been looking forward to our luncheon date."

Ned nodded. "I almost didn't come tonight. I didn't want to... to be here, if you weren't here."

She smiled a little, at that. "And is... Meg? Here?"

"Probably," Ned said. "She probably is. I just haven't been able to keep my eyes off you."

For the rest of the evening, they were together. Bess had Dave carry around her Polaroid and demanded that Nancy and Ned pose for several photos with their hands joined, and a few more with George and Burt. Ned took a photo of the three chums together, and the six of them posed together for a shot. The girls each demanded one to keep for their albums.

When the last dance of the evening was announced, Nancy and Ned moved back out onto the dance floor again. He took her in his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder, the ridiculous glass crown still resting on her hair.

"I guess I should thank Bess."

Nancy tilted her head back to gaze up at him, and Ned hated the loss of contact. "I should too," she admitted, and he felt it again. Their bodies continued to sway, but their eyes were locked together, and everywhere she touched him was hypersensitive and tingling with awareness.

He breathed her name, very softly, and felt the warm smooth satin of her gloved fingertips at the back of his neck.

"Tell me you can't feel this," he whispered.

Nancy blinked up at him, her cheeks a shade pinker, and she actually giggled. "I do," she said softly, and he knew that there was more she wasn't saying, but that was all he cared about.

He leaned down until their lips were about to brush, then stopped, as their bodies slowed. "Maybe we could move that lunch up to tomorrow."

Nancy nodded, her nose brushing his. "Thank God," she murmured, just before he kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Refers to events in _Clue in the Diary_ and _Secret in the Old Attic_.**

* * *

><p>If she had been able to come up with any other option, <em>anything<em> whatsoever, Nancy wouldn't have done it. The snow was coming down and the roads were worsening, and from the road she and Bess had spotted only the faintest light from Riverwood Cottage. But they had to find a phone before the Stillson gang woke up and managed to struggle out of their bonds.

Bess stepped back to the edge of the porch, shivering in her fur-lined wool coat. "_Brrrrrr_," she said, her teeth chattering into the sound. "M-my, how n-nice they've made it o-out here."

In her haste Nancy had barely noticed. The small cabin she remembered had a large finished addition at the back, and the yard was free of Honey's toys.

Joe Swenson, hair askew, wrapped in a thick robe, answered the door. "Who— Oh! Miss Drew!"

Nancy flashed him a small, quick smile. "Mr. Swenson. I am _terribly_ sorry to wake you on a night like this, but—"

"Come in! Come in!" He stepped aside and motioned for Nancy and Bess to follow him inside. Helen was seated on the couch; their expansion project had made the living room twice as large. In the corner the family Christmas tree still sparkled, and Honey lay with her golden head cradled on her mother's thigh. When the girls came inside, murmuring their thanks, Honey's eyes opened.

"Oh! Oh!" Honey glanced between her parents. "What a lovely surprise!"

Nancy smiled at the six-year-old, and remembered, with a pang, the feast she and Ned had prepared for the Swenson family. Bess and George had been involved too, but that was when she and Ned had first met, when her every glance at him made her blush warmly with awareness and something like desire.

"Hello, Honey," Nancy said. "It's very nice to see you again."

Bess stripped her gloves off and walked to the fireplace. "Yes, Honey," she said, also beaming at the little girl. "Have you had a lovely vacation from school?"

Nancy turned to Mr. Swenson. "I am very, very sorry to impose on you like this—"

"No imposition!" Mr. Swenson beamed at her. "In fact, any other night and you would have caught us all a-bed."

Nancy smiled. "Well, then. I suppose our timing is not quite so poor as I had thought. I desperately need to borrow your phone..."

Mr. Swenson showed her to the phone, and Nancy reached the local police force, informing them of where the Stillson gang could be found, if they hurried. The on-duty dispatcher told Nancy that the force was largely out on patrol, but he would have an officer sent there as soon as possible.

With a sigh Nancy hung up the phone. Bess and Honey were engaged in a warm conversation by the fire; Bess had always had a soft spot for the little girl. Mrs. Swenson came into the kitchen with an empty mug and smiled at Nancy.

"If you would care to freshen up..."

"Oh, I must look a mess," Nancy realized, gingerly patting her hair. The scuffle at the warehouse had left her clothes dusty, her dress torn. Bess could just shake out her dress and run a comb through her hair and she would be fine; Nancy practically needed to shower and start over.

Quickly Nancy went out to her car and opened the trunk, glad she had forgotten to remove her newly-bought dress before setting out after the gang. She had had every intention of returning home to prepare for the dance, but of course she had not expected to get the drop on the gang.

Once she had made herself at least mildly presentable, she called her residence, crossing her fingers.

"Nancy!" cried Hannah, once her call was connected. "Land sakes, girl, where are you?"

"Has Ned been by?" Nancy cringed a little in expectation of the housekeeper's answer.

"Of _course_ he has. He's pacing a hole in the living room rug right now."

"Can you _please_ tell him that I'm on the way, and he should just go ahead to the dance. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Hannah clucked her tongue at the younger girl. "And there's no risk that that nasty gang you've been going after will run you off the road or kidnap you?"

"I've just sent the police after them," Nancy said, almost twisting in impatience. "Please give Ned the message. I have to go!"

Promising Honey and the Swensons that they would be by for a longer visit as soon as they could, Nancy and Bess bid their farewells and sprinted for the car. Bess hissed in displeasure when she slid into the chilly interior.

"And now we have to head straight for the dance," Bess moaned, consulting her tiny wristwatch. "At least you had your dress with you. I was hoping to be able to go home first."

"At least you didn't get dragged all over the warehouse floor," Nancy returned, squinting to see through the heavy snowfall. "Please help me stay on the road."

Nancy was almost vibrating with exasperation at the conditions of the tiny back road when they reached the paved highway. She proceeded as quickly as she dared, and soon they were trying to find a parking spot in the crowded lot of the Mapleton Country Club.

The grand ballroom was decorated in black and silver. Along with the older couples, Nancy saw many of Ned's friends and acquaintances, and some people she knew from River Heights. Bess made a beeline to the punch bowl and immediately procured a glass of iced lemonade and two cookies.

Nancy glanced down at her dress. The bodice was strapless black satin, the full skirt white tulle embroidered with tiny glimmering black beads. The gloves she had planned to wear were back at her home, along with the necklace and earrings. At least her scuffed everyday pumps were hidden under the floor-length hem.

"Nancy!"

Ned maneuvered through the crowd and Nancy knew her face lit up when she saw him, but she didn't care. "I'm so sorry I was late—"

He reached her and immediately drew her into the circle of his arms, lifting her up off the floor, and her heart rose as she slipped her arms up around his shoulders. He radiated warmth, and after the cold car ride, she loved being this close to him.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, pulling back to gaze up into his eyes, and he slipped a fingertip down her cheek, brushing away a smudge of dust she had missed. "I'm fine. I sent the police after the gang."

Ned frowned. "Why didn't you ask me to go—"

"I didn't expect them to be there," she defended herself, as he gently placed her back on the ground, but they were still pressed tight against each other. "And when I called your mother said you and your father were out—"

Ned nodded, and squeezed her gently. "I worry about you," he said gruffly, and glanced up at her eyes, and the intensity there almost took her breath away.

She nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry."

It was already late. The couples who had stopped dancing were already seated at tables covered in elegant black tablecloths, and those of age had chilled flutes of champagne standing by. Bess floated by in the arms of a boy with curly blond hair and whimsical green eyes, and Nancy exchanged grins with her.

But truly, otherwise, her attention was wholly on Ned. The band played softly in the corner and the other couples laughed and chattered around them, but she could imagine that when they were this close, they were attuned somehow, in a way that was beyond speech or understanding.

Ned had come home from Emerson and he and Nancy had spent so much time together. Together they had seen _Mutiny on the Bounty _and_ Lawrence of Arabia, _built a veritable army of snowmen, and solved a mystery and a half. Hannah complained that Ned saw Nancy more than she did. Meg was out of the picture—Nancy couldn't imagine that Ned had found the time to even speak to the girl, considering the amount of time she had been with him—and Nancy had politely but firmly declined all James's invitations a few weeks before, and hadn't heard from him since.

His warm brown eyes lingered on hers. The longer their gazes held, the less she could deny the tremor it sent straight down her spine.

She hadn't been lying when she had told him that she felt nothing that morning in the cabin—she had really believed that was the truth. It was only after she had been sure that she would not see him again, when she had believed their estrangement permanent, that she had allowed herself to realize how she felt about him.

She wasn't sure why she had buried it for so long. Maybe because Bess and George had teased her so about him. Maybe because she had never felt this way about anyone else, before or since. Maybe because she had been so sure all along that she would never actually be _enough_ for him as she was.

The only constant in her life so far had been her father, and she remembered her mother—and how awful it had been for her father after her death. How she and her father had grown so close, depended on each other so much, that she had never considered leaving him to fend without her.

And part of her had never, ever wanted to go through losing someone the way her father had.

The intensity of Ned's gaze had always been discomfiting. Now, though, she met it and held it and felt her heart skip a beat in response.

The song drew to a close and the couples around them applauded, but Nancy and Ned stayed locked together, like every bit of strength in her was tied to maintaining that gaze.

"And now," the band director announced, "we are drawing close to the climax of the evening! Ladies and gentlemen, if you would collect your champagne or lemonade and find that special someone..."

With a soft chuckle Nancy finally, reluctantly pulled her gaze from his, seeking Bess. Her friend had her arm linked through that of the blond youth she had been dancing with earlier, and lifted her chin happily on Nancy's raised eyebrow. Ned excused himself to join the crush at the punchbowls.

The waitresses moved through the crowd distributing paper hats and noisemakers. Nancy took a set, glad that Bess hadn't had time to collect her camera before they had departed on their adventure that afternoon.

Ned returned to her side with two cups of golden liquid. "Lemonade?" she asked, accepting one.

"Of course," Ned returned, although his eyes were sparkling. Nancy took a sip to confirm, anyway.

"This is it!" the band leader announced, his voice tense with anticipation. "All together now! Ten! Nine!"

"Eight!" Nancy and Ned joined in with wide grins, although the closer they counted to one, the higher the sudden tension thrummed in her chest. She raised her glass, preparing to toast with his.

"One!"

"Happy new year!"

Nancy bumped her glass against Ned's, and when she saw him bend his head down, a part of her wasn't surprised at all.

The touch of his mouth against hers was soft and sweet, and the cheers and cries of the crowd around them faded to whispers in her head. Distantly she remembered to keep a firm grip on her glass of lemonade; otherwise, she surely would have absently poured it all over the floor. She felt his fingertips against the back of her neck and then she really _did_ shiver, as the tip of his tongue touched her lips, as she parted them to allow him access to her mouth.

They were very, very much in public, and if her father were here—

But he wasn't.

She tilted her head the other way and they were breathing each other's breath as the band began to play "Auld Lang Syne," and with a muffled protesting sigh they parted, so slowly.

For the rest of this new year, to be locked in an embrace like that one.

She drew a deep breath, a little unsteady, and smiled up at him. "Happy new year, Ned." She took a long sip of her lemonade, hoping to hide the small tremor in her hands.

"Happy new year, Nancy." Ned finished his lemonade in one long gulp, and only when he moved his hand did she realize it had been lingering at the small of her back.

She spent the last dance, the first dance of the new year, in Ned's arms, swaying gently to the music. She rested her head against his shoulder and their bodies were so close, and oh how she wished she had made it to the dance on time. She never wanted to leave this. Never, never wanted to leave this.

"To a peaceful and prosperous 1963," the band leader said in closing, as the last few notes slowly faded.

Several of the couples kept chattering, although most were heavy-eyed with exhaustion and heading for the coat check. Ned glanced at her, as she was considering how little she wanted to say her goodbyes, and took her hand, heading for one of the grand oversized French doors.

The balconies were convenient during the crush of summer dances, but little used on a snowy night like tonight. The flakes had become smaller, and were practically just bits of ice now, but at least the recessed opening kept them from the worst of the wind.

She shivered and Ned immediately shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, handing it to her, and she gazed up at him curiously. "Aren't you cold?"

Ned shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yes," he admitted. "But... I just needed to talk to you."

She gave him a wide, confused grin. "Well, there's a nice warm dance floor..."

"Not... in front of all those people."

She nodded, and then her mouth went dry.

"What are we doing," he said softly, and cupped her cheek in his palm, brushed his thumb over it gently.

"Ned..."

When her voice faded, Ned shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted. "Ever since the dance at Emerson—before that, before that even. And I don't know if you are reluctant to put a label on this, but..."

Nancy snuggled deeper into his jacket, the scent of him and his aftershave. "Are you asking if we should go steady," she said, with a little half-smile.

"I suppose I am."

Nancy leaned back against the balcony wall and glanced through the window, at the silhouettes of the people still lingering inside. She didn't relish the idea of finding her way back to her car around the building, in the snow. "I'm sorry," she said.

Ned's face fell and Nancy reached for him, touched his arm.

"No, no—I'm not saying no. I just... I'm sorry about how I reacted, when Dad had that talk with us. I'm sorry I hurt you. I never meant to do that."

"I know."

Nancy impatiently brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "It's... when you don't have anything it's impossible to lose it. You know?"

Ned nodded, and reached out to run a hand up and down her arm. "I know."

"Nancy! Ned!"

They both turned at the sound of Bess's voice, and Ned sighed, his hand lingering at her elbow before he moved to open the balcony door. "Bess?"

"Oh, good." Only a few couples remained on the floor; the waitstaff had already cleared and dismantled the long refreshment tables. "I was hoping you two weren't kidnapped by gang members. Oh, I wasn't—interrupting anything?"

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other and didn't answer. "I suppose we should be going," Ned said finally.

The coat check girl already had their coats waiting. As Ned helped Nancy into hers, he murmured, "Do you need to take Bess home?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Yes."

He took her hand. "I'd like to meet you at your house."

"Hannah does always love to fix you breakfast..."

Ned shook his head. "Tonight." He squeezed her hand a little. "I... I suppose breakfast would be just as well..."

She gazed at him curiously for a moment. "You want to finish our conversation."

He nodded. "But... it's all right."

She squeezed his hand in return. "I'll see you there. Once I take Bess home."

* * *

><p>Ned moved so, so very slowly on the Drews' porch, listening carefully for a creaking board. Hannah had left the porch light burning for Nancy, but Ned heard no television set or murmured conversation inside. With any luck Mr. Drew and Hannah had retired for the night soon after midnight.<p>

Nancy parked her car, and Ned didn't imagine the lightness in her step as she came up the walk to him. "Hi."

"Hello," he murmured back, and it was the most natural thing in the world to draw her into his arms, to brush his lips against hers. The small sound she made in her throat provoked an immediate visceral response in him.

"We don't have to put a label on this," he told her softly.

She chuckled, answering just as quietly. "We don't have to because I'm sure my father would be happy to. Especially after that display in front of half of Mapleton tonight."

Together they slowly walked to the porch swing and brushed away the snowdrift, then took their seats on it. "We don't have to put a label on it, but you would like to," she said quietly.

Ned's mouth went dry. He thought of a hundred different things to say, but in the end he didn't say any of them, just reached into the inner pocket of his tux and pulled out a small bundle of white tissue tied with a silver ribbon.

Nancy glanced between him and the bundle as he handed it to her, then meticulously opened it. She pulled out his fraternity pin.

Her eyes were gleaming when they met his.

It wasn't an engagement ring, not quite. But it was the unspoken promise that one would most likely follow. It was his mark on her.

"You don't have to..."

She handed it back to him. "If you... could put it on me."

Ned had to wait until his hand stopped shaking, to gently slide his fingertips under the bodice of her dress, where he could feel the warmth of her skin and the stiff scratchy lace of her brassiere. He fastened his pin to her dress and then looked up at her, in the faint glow of the porch light.

She had a faint, almost shy smile on her face.

"Nancy."

Then he felt her cool fingers against his, and they just sat there, gazing at each other, and it was everything, everything he had wanted to say to her six months before.

She touched his cheek, stroking her thumb against it. "I've been dreaming about you."

"Is that strange?"

She nodded. "Usually you're just... there, in my dreams. Helping me solve a problem. But..." She chuckled. "Do you remember when Diane Dight played that trick—"

"And tried to make me think you couldn't go to the dance with me so I'd invite her."

She nodded. "I dreamt about you then. Dreamt about you saving me. And then you did. Seeing you with Carol, knowing you were seeing Meg—oh, it made me _sick_, Ned. I kept dreaming that you were with me again, in a cabin again."

"Did you."

She gave him that shy smile again, and nodded, and she became serious again. "You know that... that connection you asked if I felt? Every single time I've seen you since that awful day, I've felt it. And it's been amazing and awful and... and honestly it's been ever since the first time I saw you. I just hate how helpless it makes me feel. Because you... Ned, how is it that you could ever want this kind of life with me, and I... was I just wasting all this..."

Ned touched her cheek. "Love, if this is what you want—"

He saw her eyes widen at his slip, and he cringed a little inside, but he kept going. "Then you will do this for as long as it makes you happy. The only thing I ask is that I'm allowed to help you as much as I can."

The color was high in her cheeks, and her eyes were so bright. "You love me," she whispered.

His chest felt tight, like he couldn't breathe. "I've loved you practically since the first moment I saw you," he told her. "I haven't felt anything in comparison, for anyone else."

"Even Meg?"

Ned shook his head. "That day, when you said I just wanted someone to put dinner on the table—Meg was that girl. Will be that girl to someone else, I'm sure. She was who I thought I was supposed to want. But all I kept looking for, really, was you, and there is no one else like you."

Nancy smiled. "There's no one like you, either," she told him. "I—how could I ever think you would be easy to replace. No one understands me the way you do."

Ned leaned down to her, to brush his lips against hers. Both of them were shivering, but neither could feel the cold, not when they were so close. Her fingers were cool as they stroked his cheek, the point of his jaw, and the kiss became deep, almost hungry in its passion. He slipped his arms around her and drew her to him, and she didn't stop, didn't cry off or pull away.

When they broke the kiss she was panting a little, and she had to blink a few times before she could meet his gaze. "I love you too," she said, and giggled in nervousness and delight. "I think—it's been a long time, now."

He grinned. "Oh, Nancy."

"We can do this. Can't we?" Her brows drew together a little. "We can make this work the way it didn't before. We can."

Ned brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "I'll never let you go," he said softly. "Not until you tell me to, and probably not even then. We _can_ do this."

She grinned back at him. "Say it," she murmured, her fingertips brushing his cheek.

"I love you," he said, so close his lips brushed hers. "I love you, Nancy Drew. And I'm in this as long as you are."

She giggled just before they kissed again, a sound of pure girlish joy, and he _wanted_ her, wanted to run away with her, wanted to wake up to her for the rest of his life.

When they parted again Nancy smiled slowly at him again, then glanced to her right.

And froze.

Carson Drew was standing just outside the doorway, in his bathrobe, watching them with an expression of slight amusement on his face.

"I believe we had an agreement," he said drily.

Nancy stood. "Dad, I—"

And Ned saw Mr. Drew's gaze fall to the fraternity pin on his daughter's dress, gleaming in the porch light.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Ned stood and had to swallow hard, to form any words at all. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Drew nodded. "Why don't you come over for dinner," he said, and it wasn't, strictly speaking, a request.

Once he had bid Ned a good night, and Ned knew he was just waiting on the other side of that door for his daughter to walk through, Nancy turned back to him. "That..."

"Went pretty well," Ned finished, taking her hand. "I've kept you awake long enough. I'll see you for dinner."

Nancy nodded, her eyes gleaming again. "I can't wait."

For a second he tried to resist, but he had to give in. Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her again, slow and sweet. "I love you," she whispered when he pulled back, and then giggled. "I can't believe how it feels to say that."

Ned smiled. "I love you too," he said. "That... does feel pretty good."

She lingered on the porch until Ned was in his car, and even after he had started the ignition he still idled there, locking her into his memory, the way she looked.

She loved him. She _loved_ him.

Her father opened the door and she gave him a little wave, and reluctantly he pulled away from the curb, but the entire way home, even once he was snuggled into his bed, the warmth of that knowledge stayed with him.

He was sure, now, that it always would.


End file.
